


I Just Want To Sit And Stare At You

by Krasimer



Series: Do Not Go Gentle [11]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anything with an & is a Moirailegience, Derse, Doc Scratch and others unknown are dicks, F/F, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Memory Alteration, Prospit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-20
Updated: 2015-03-20
Packaged: 2018-03-18 17:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3578037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is ARANEA SERKET and for the first time in thousands of sweeps spent in the dream bubbles, your thinkpan doesn't feel hollow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Want To Sit And Stare At You

Your name is ARANEA SERKET and for the first time in thousands of sweeps spent in the dream bubbles, your thinkpan doesn't feel hollow.

Your fingers are buried in Porrim's hair, stroking gently backwards from her scalp and scratching lightly at the base of her horns. She's making a purring sound and she feels warm under your hand. Her eyes are closed and her head is resting on your thigh, her hands tucked gracefully under her chin. 

"I cannot believe that we forgot." you whisper, your eyes locked on her cheekbone, on her lips, on her.

Her right eye opens, swivels up to meet yours as a smile twists her lips. "I forgot how good you looked with my color in your hair." she whispers back, the tips of her fangs peeking out of her smile. "I forgot how much you- I forgot how flushed I was for you."

With a flicker of sadness on her face, she sits up again. The slit in her skirt slides sideways and exposes her knees, the lovely shape of her legs. 

You can't help it.

You rest a hand on her leg and feel the warmth of the smooth skin there, bending down to press a kiss to her knee. Her fingers catch in your hair, one of her claws sliding over the frame of your glasses. Your eyes slide to the hollow of her throat, the dip between her collarbones that hosts the stone in your color.

"Flushed for you too." you manage, hands reaching out of their own volition and patting down her shoulders. 

Porrim grins, a much wilder expression than her smile from before, and then stands, offering a hand to help you up. The dark green lines on her skin flex with her muscle, which barely even twitches despite the added strain of lifting another person to their feet. You giggle and cover the sound with your hand, cheeks flushed a deep cerulean. 

"No, don't stop that sound!" she chastises playfully. 

Standing, she is taller than you. Especially in her heels, which add almost half of a foot to her height. "We should find the others." you tilt your head back to meet her eyes again, smiling as her skin shifts to a bright glow. Her eyes change as well, a vibrant yellow color that makes her entire face light up. 

She holds out a hand again, twines her fingers with yours. "Shall we?"

"We shall." you nod once, then lead the walk out of her hive, pausing only for both of you to run fingers over the frame of the Dolorosa's portrait. 

It reminds you, rather belatedly, of your version of Mindfang's journal. 

You eject it from your sylladex and place it on the table underneath the portrait, glancing at Porrim once you do. When she nods, something that you didn't realize was coiled in your chest relaxes and lets you breathe.

"It suits." is all she says as she takes your hand again and continues walking. "Do you know where we'll find them?"

With a deep breath through your nose, you feel for the emotions of your friends. You catch the edges of Kurloz's deeply buried rage, the hint of Kankri's forever burning feelings of inadequacy. In the other direction, back towards his dream bubble, is Mituna's confusion and sadness.

Despite all of the changes, all of those things are still there. 

You point in the direction of Kankri and Kurloz, smile at your matesprit. "Come on," you urge her, "Let's get the moirails back together again."

She laughs, settles her free hand on the back of your neck for a second and steals a kiss from you. "That sounds lovely to me, especially now that I will be able to help fix the damage to his memories." Her eyes fall closed again, her hand rising and motioning for something. Between her bubble and Kankri's is suddenly a bridge of space, a simple path for you to walk and arrive at his door.

When you get there and she knocks, the door is almost ripped open. 

Kankri is on the other side, already rushing out and wrapping his arms around Porrim, and she smiles and puts her hand on his head. "Have I little to fix then?" she asks, smiling as he looks up at her and smiles back. 

Walking behind him at a more sedate pace is Kurloz. His hands are tucked into the pockets of his shorts, the gloves he always wore nowhere in sight. 

If it weren't for the skeleton patterned leggings, the purple shorts, and the wild curls around his head, you wouldn't have recognized him. The stitches that closed his mouth are gone, his facepaint is wiped off, and he seems to be wearing one of Kankri's shirts. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and the torso of it is barely big enough to not be obscenely tight.

He grins at you, his teeth showing, and you can't do anything but wave at him. "Hello Kurloz."

 ** _'Whatever MOTHERFUCKER took him away from me is going to FUCKING PAY FOR IT.'_** his eyes glow bright purple as he speaks. Despite the little twinge of fear at the sight of it, what it would have meant for you if he had done it when he didn't remember, the use of his Chucklevoodoos doesn't actually phase you. **_'Fucking miracle that I got him back before something nasty was done to him.'_**

Through all of his rage, the grin is still on his face and now that he has reached the group of you, his hand is stretched out to rest on Kankri's hip. 

"Matesprits and Moirails don't tend to do well when separated." you mutter, gesturing at the still hugging moirail pair that consists of your matesprit and his. "Whoever did this is, in my opinion, deserving of being revenged upon."

 ** _'You got that MOTHERFUCKING RIGHT.'_** he snarls, eyes curling shut with his smile. 

Porrim finally pulls away from Kankri, then turns and swoops Kurloz into a hug as well, her chin tucked into his shoulder and her free hand resting on his back, nearly to his ribs. "Have you gotten your Moirail back yet?" she asks him, and you kiss the back of her hand before letting it go and circling around to Kankri. 

He's not in any of your quadrants, but he probably needs as much physical contact as he can get right now.

Trolls are, after all, physical creatures, and he went thousands of sweeps without anyone wanting to be anywhere near him. Cronus, once everything is all settled with him, will probably need the same from his matesprit. As for Meenah...

You don't want to even think about what she will need from her matesprit.

Kankri looks up at you, as if deciding, and then puts his arms out cautiously. Instead of his normal red sweater, he's wearing Kurloz's discarded skeleton shirt, the white bones an odd addition to the normally bright clothing choices he made. You hug him, patting gently at his back and mussing his hair briefly before pulling back. 

He grins, then looks at his matesprit. "I owe Cronus a great deal." he mutters. 

You blink, because that statement almost makes sense. "How do you mean?" you look between the two of them. "I mean, I know that he is sort of how you met, but what else?"

"Cronus brought Kurloz's memories back," he explains, hands twisting in the fabric of his swapped out shirt. "And then Kurloz brought back Mituna's and mine. He left Mituna on his own for a little bit, just to come find me and make sure I had mine." he gestures at the clip in his hair, the shape of it faintly similar to yours. "If he hadn't, then I might have-" he cuts himself off, one hand flying up to tuck some of his hair behind an ear.

If you look closely, there are claw marks on the skin above his eyes.

Kurloz reaches over, released from Porrim's motherly hug, and pulls Kankri back against him, plays with his hair slowly. **_'Any clue where the MOTHERFUCKERS RESPONSIBLE are?'_** he asks both you and Porrim, his mental voice echoing.

Someone clears their throat behind you.

When you turn to look, all of the other trolls are standing there, Cronus and Meenah at the head of the group. "Vwe got a little bit a' knowvledge." he grins around his unlit cigarette, chewing on the end of it. "Feelin' like hearin' it?" he gestures at the entirety of the collection of trolls following along, the fins on the sides of his head flaring out. "I see ya fixed our Seer's head."

At the back of the group, Horuss has almost a death grip on Rufioh's waist, the winged troll's wings flapping in the gentle breeze as he tightens his grip on the blue blood's hair.

 ** _'Fixed someone elses head too, motherfucker.'_** Kurloz's grin grows wider as he tilts his head to the side and listens. After a few seconds, Meulin's ears perk as well, and she bounces on her toes excitedly. A few more seconds pass and you're finally able to hear what they are hearing: there are footsteps echoing softly through the underbrush of the forest that sits near Kankri's hive.

Cronus's eyes go wide and his chest heaves and that's when you know who it is. 

It could have been another dream bubble intersection. It could have been one of the younger trolls that has been hopping through occasionally. Hell, it could have even been any of the older versions of your own group. 

But no, what makes Cronus's face light up and his cigarette drop from his lips is the yellow clad troll that comes running from the trees, arms swinging in time with each step he takes and his hair blown out of his face by the wind. Cronus makes an almost wounded sound and then Mituna is against him, his face pressed into the taller troll's chest.

His claws are digging into Cronus's shoulders, almost hard enough to where it would have drawn blood, but the seadweller doesn't seem to mind.

With a small grunt, he hefts Mituna up, wraps his arms around the smaller trolls waist and lets his legs go limp as Mituna's wrap around him. The two of them hit the ground and curl even closer, one of Cronus's hands now free to bury itself in Mituna's hair. There's a feeling of desperation and loneliness that comes off the two, and you can relate.

Thousands of sweeps alone with the wrong memories and the absence of someone so important...

Your hand finds Porrim's again, and she steps closer until her hip is against you, her other arm outstretched so that she can still keep contact with her moirail. You look at Meenah and frown because she is standing alone and watching her moirail cling to his matesprit.

"Meenah?" you call out, her eyes snapping to look at you. 

At the questioning look in your eyes, she shakes her head slowly. "We couldn't find her." she whispers, her voice cracking. "Checked her hive, checked her favorite places...Fuck, we even checked the fuckin' bubbles of every other troll we know." she swallows, pulls the ends of her braids into her hands and twists them like she's wringing a neck. "We couldn't find her anywhere."

Meulin is closer, so it's her hand that ends up on the princess's shoulder. "We'll find her."

"What if we can't?" Meenah makes a noise in the back of her throat, the sound of utmost misery. Her braids are certainly suffering, and when you look at Latula with a nod, the other troll pulls them away. There's a familiar shell in her hair, the soft cream and pink of it too familiar to be anything but the hairpiece that Damara Megido made for her matesprit before everything went up in flames. 

"We will." you insist, looking at Cronus and Mituna again. They've separated slightly, their foreheads together instead of their faces pressed into the other's neck. "What exactly changed everything?"

"A Goddess." Cronus answers hazily, fingers combing through the mess of black hair on Mituna's head. "Don't knowv her name, just knowv that she's the Mother Goddess a' Derse. It's vwhy she couldn't get all a' us back, just the Dersites." he motions in the vague direction of Kurloz and Kankri with his elbow. "Had ta bring them back vwith the memory items she gavwe me."

"So...What now?" Rufioh asked, an eyebrow raised. 

The group spreads out, sits down in something resembling a circle. Cronus and Mituna are included in it, and you manage to sit down next to Latula. The possibility of a Moirailship between the two of you before you had died is in your mind, and you still have an interest in it, would prefer to have as many people around you as you can. She smiles at you, pats your shoulder and then looks away.

Porrim's arm is around your waist, and you kiss her shoulder. "So we have contact with a Goddess." you confirm, then nod slowly. "Alright, that's neat."

"Prospit has a Goddess too." Rufioh raises a hand, still holding tightly onto Horuss. "I think we might need ta figure out how ta save her? That was kind of the impression that I got from what I heard of the whole thing."

"That is right." someone new calls out. 

Leaning against a tree is a blue skinned woman with deep cuts to her exposed skin and blood pooled in the folds of her skirt. When she sees you looking, she smiles in a way that reminds you a little bit of Porrim. It's the look that Porrim gives Kankri when he tries to go anywhere without at least a second layer of clothing, the motherly 'Listen to me, I know best' look.

Her hair is the same color as Horuss's blood, and her skin is the color of yours, and she looks beautiful and pained at the same time.

She comes closer, drops to her knees at the edge of the circle. With a small sigh, she pets Meulin's hair, reaches for Mituna's and Cronus's as well. "My little dark moons," she whispers, the name sounding so loving on her lips that you wish it was directed at you. "I wish that I did not have the dredge things from the past back up to the surface but I fear that I must." She tilts Mituna's head up and smiles at him. "The interference has left your mind, my mixed moon."

"Yeth." he grins at her, leans into her hand for a second. "It'th better now."

"Good, I-" she cuts off, her head jerking to the side as she whimpers. She struggles to her feet, hands curling into fists and her hair fluffing up into a cloud behind her head. "I need everyone to move." she hisses.

The tone of it gets you to your feet and you drag Porrim with you.

The Goddess strides forward unsteadily, turns back to look at the trolls clustering against the line of trees. "I need you all to be brave," she whispers, smiling with false reassurance as she waves everyone away. "The battle may be here, and I need you all to survive it."

"Ghosts can't die, so that's good." Meenah calls.

The Goddess looks at her, eyes filled with sadness. "Oh my dear," she answers. "Even Death can die." she turns back in time to look up into the sky, just in time for something to catch her in the chest and slam her down. In the sky is the dark shape of three beings, and one of them looks so much like Damara that your breath catches in your throat.

If it isn't Damara, you're going to eat your own glasses, because both of those things are impossibilities. 

The three descend.

The moment they touch down, flames begin to burn around you and seal off any chance of escape. Beside you, Porrim pulls out a chainsaw, fangs bared and eyes a searing yellow color. The line of trolls follow suit in short order, each of them equipping their strife specibuses in turn.

Kankri's long handled sickles are a bit surprising, but you figure that the memories being coming back to him must have granted them their return. Kurloz pulls out a truly terrifying club lined with crystal spikes that drips with the poison your lusus once produced. The spikes glimmer in the light of Mituna's psionics, the short troll pressing both of his hands to his temples. Before you can even truly think about it, your dice are in your grasp, and you feel the fire of fighting for your existence flaring within you.

When the three approach, one of them has orange skin and red hair, her sun-bright eyes glaring at you. There are wispy strings of power connecting both her and Damara to the third figure, and you go still as you look at the orange woman for another moment.

"...Oh." your eyes go wide as you stare down the Mother Goddess of Prospit.

When she opens her lips and lets out a howl akin to something from a nightmare, your blood pusher stops in your chest and you fight the urge to fall back because this is terror given form. 

Damara, formerly kind and friendly Damara, Damara who had a panic attack when she found out that Rufioh had decided to shift quadrants, Damara who sought your advice when she realized she might have been flush for the _Princess_ , of all trolls, steps forward and swings her wand out.

Despite having been dead for thousands of sweeps, you think that it is only now that you know what true death looks like.

**Author's Note:**

> ...Tell me what you think?


End file.
